


I Can't Explain

by irolltwenties (Shenanigans)



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: M/M, Multi, No Plot, None - Freeform, Pure Smut, a series of ficlets, and they are short, because looking at it short circuits my brain, because there is no plot, no fucking plot in sight, no redeeming qualities outside of porn, only fucking, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 11:47:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20045491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shenanigans/pseuds/irolltwenties
Summary: Someone dared me to write Kyle/Michael. This happened: Toppy bossy Alex, pliant defiant Michael, competent obliging Kyle. That's it.





	I Can't Explain

“You are the-”

“Just shut up and take your pants off.” Kyle was glaring at the belt buckle, fingers deft as he slipped the leather and flipped the clasp. Michael Guerin was reaching back to pull his shirt off in one quick motion.

“I told you not to bail me out anymore,” Michael muttered, dropping the ratty black t-shirt on the tile in Kyle’s condo. 

“Evans hates it,” Kyle shrugged, glancing up from where he was unknotting his scrub bottoms and toeing out of his sneakers in the same motion.

“That’s why?” Michael reached over, batting Kyle’s hands away and tugging his hips close so he could watch Kyle’s face as he worked the knot open easily. He’d tied it after all.

Kyle smirked, eyes going smug as he reached and curled a hand into Michael’s boxers, the surest way to shut him up. He watched the way Michael’s eyes fluttered shut and then focused again, lashes low and mouth dropping open as Kyle worked his wrist, thumb smearing through a pulse of precome. “Hard already?” Kyle couldn’t help the cocky tone or the way he wet his lips, smirk going broad at the way Michael’s eyes zeroed in on his mouth.

“Shut up, Valenti.”

“Shut me up, Guerin.”

**

“You want some water?” Michael was panting at the ceiling, the tile starting to cool under his shoulders as he tried to shift. Kyle grumbled, fingers tightening at his hips as he protested the movement. “Words.”

“You suck dick like a champ,” Kyle mumbled, exhaling against Michael’s shoulder and pressing a soft kiss like an afterthought to the freckles there.

“So,” Michael managed a smug smile, wetting his lips and tucking his tongue against his molar as he rolled the look down to the top of Kyle’s head. “That’s a no?”

Kyle lifted his head, hair a wild mess of cowlicks and face rashed red from stubble. “I’m trying to compliment you her-”

“We don’t do that,” Michael rolled his eyes, reaching to push at Kyle’s face with sex numb fingers before flexing his hips. He smirked at the hiss of too sweet too soon from Kyle. “We fight and we fuck. Those are the rules.”

“You just made that up.”

“Mayhaps.”

“No. Don’t do the cowboy thing,” Kyle groaned, pushing up on straight arms. Michael let himself look. Valenti was all sharp angles and cut muscle, cheekbones and hipbones like knives. He fucked like it was a fight and left Michael bruised and spent.

“You know you like it,” Michael sighed, slapping at his hip to get him to move. “Now git. I’m sticky and your floor, while nice, is not comfortable.”

“Says the man living in an RV.”

“Airstream.”

“Whatever.” Kyle eased out, eyes closing around a hiss before he wobbled to his feet, peeling off the condom, knotting it and padding around the kitchen island to throw it away with a clatter. He started washing his hands in the sink. 

“We done here?”

“Depends.”

“Aw, did you want a cuddle?” Michael snagged his jeans from where they were tossed over the fruit basket, shaking them out and stepping into the soft worn denim.

“Jesus, Geurin.” Kyle exhaled and turned, face back to the normal haughty doctor. “Can’t a guy fuck and take a moment for the refractory period?”

“Usin’ them big words again,” Michael touched his tongue to his top lip, eyes going predatory.

“You outscored me on the SAT, don’t act dumb.”

“You admitting I’m better-”

“Smarter, maybe.” Kyle smiled and handed him the glass of water he’d poured.

**

Kyle was methodical and there were times Michael appreciated it, sometimes when he hated it. He was panting, leaking against his stomach as he stared at the ceiling, legs splayed open and Kyle’s mouth at the underside of his dick while his fingers worked him open. Michael had lost count of how many times he’d broken and pleaded, throbbing hotly around each slow press into him.

“If you don’t fuck-”

“Patience.”

“I am going to-” he cut off with a low whine as Kyle shifted his fingers and mouthed at his balls.

“What? What was that?” Kyle managed to sound smug and light even with a dick in his mouth. It was infuriating.

“Damnit, Kyle.”

“Say please.”

**

They didn’t kiss until they did. Kyle had managed to get a hold of Michael where he was lunging for Wyatt Long across a pool table. He’d taken the hit, glaring hotly at Michael and starting to shove him out the door, bracing and continuing to herd him around the drunken rage. He managed to get him pinned against the side of Michael’s truck, forearm braced across his chest and other hand lifted defensively. Michael had been bloody toothed and wild, hair a wreck and panting around the surge of adrenaline. Kyle leveraged his entire weight to pin him in place, years of football practical for once.

“Guerin.” Kyle kept his voice soothing and low, gentle. “Look at me.”

Michael’s eyes had rolled hard like a wild horse before focusing in on where Kyle was holding him. 

“That’s it. Come on, breathe. Breathe with me. In.” He caught the edge of Michael’s breath and inhaled, nodding as Michael centered and focused, quieting as he mimicked. “Out.” He was blowing out a breath when Michael surged forward, catching his face and crashing against him.

Kissing Michael Guerin was the last thing he’d intended that day, but it was the first thing he thought of the next morning, Michael sprawled in his gray sheets and golden in the late afternoon light. This was more than their bodies in the night. Kyle Valenti shoved at Michael’s shoulder, waking him. 

“I’m going to be late.”

Michael lifted his head, cut in his eyebrow caught together with butterfly bandages and eye bruised. He managed to look lost and soft for a moment before he swallowed and rolled onto his back, reaching under the sheets to stroke at himself with an obvious flex of arm. “Yes. Yes, you are.”

**

Michael was sitting on his couch, legs sprawled out and socked feet pressed against the opposite arm. Michael Guerin was muttering about the innacuracies of the science in the blockbuster playing on HBO and Kyle Valenti realized he didn’t want him to leave. 

“You staying tonight?” he asked casually, reaching over to snag a handful of popcorn. He almost missed the way Michael stilled, eyes snapping from the tv to Kyle and then back.

The pause lengthened, the explosion on screen lighting Michael in profile. “Mayhaps.”

Kyle nodded, reaching and taking one tender moment to trace the curve of Michael’s ear before shoving at his head. “Good.”

**  
“Mich-”

“Shut up and fuck me.” He’s working his belt open, hat tossed onto the counter and curls wild. His hand is clumsy, knuckles swollen and red as he snarls at the clasp. Kyle wets his lips, watching the visible frustration and anger roll off Michael in waves, like heat in the distance before just taking a soft barefoot step across the tile and grabbing his wrists. Michael’s head snaps up, eyes angry and Kyle just plasters on a smirk, fingers going tight as he tugs Michael’s hands up and away. They walk silently through the kitchen to bounce off the closest wall, a small grunt of air puffing past Michael’s lips. “Just-”

“If you touch me, I stop.” Kyle wets his lips and tosses the dare between them like a compromise and he sees Michael’s eyes go wide before narrowing. He reaches, working the buckle that had been too much in the moment, too complicated and too big for the way his fingers didn’t bend the right way. “Unless you beg nicely.”

Michael tilted his head back, eyes going hot on the threat. “You’re talking. Mouth could be doing more important things.”

**

Kyle doesn’t know how he ends up with Michael Guerin bent over the hood of his beamer, ankles kicked apart as he swears filth at the back of his neck, watching the way the hard pants puff small bits of haze against the paint. One moment they were snarling at each other, ducking fists and elbows, plowing into walls and angry the next Michael had a hand on his dick and a startled heat in his eyes. It was physical. It was automatic. Blood pumping hot and fast under his skin as he snapped his hips forward, eyes rolling at the impossible tight heat of Michael Guerin’s body. 

It happened in a breath: Michael tightened his fingers like a question and Kyle found himself grabbing for the mess of curls and tugging his head back. 

Some things were easier to answer with action. He throbbed dizzily at how fast Michael hit his knees, how fast he got his zipper down and dick out. He stared, mouth hanging open on a low rough groan as Michael smirked and opened his mouth, opened his _throat_. “Oh _fuck._" 

That happened soon enough.

**

“Show me.”

Michael was in pain, sweet and overwrought as he reached over his head, grabbing the headboard and whining around Kyle’s fingers. He couldn’t keep the noise down, couldn’t bite it back when Kyle twisted and pressed, eyes sharp as he watched Michael shock, toes curling as he arched helpless to the bone deep throb that made his dick twitch in the mess of come on his stomach.

He couldn’t look away from the crack in Kyle’s ceiling, the new construction of the sleekly modern house shitty under the pretty paint and marble counter tops. He had to stare at the spot in the paint where the drywall tape bubbled a little or he would come again, come again and whine helplessly as Kyle finally shifted and fucked into him in inches. He couldn’t look away because Alex was sitting straight backed in the chair in the corner, face flushed around the careful neutral expression even as he shifted to press the heel of his palm against the bulge in his jeans. 

“Kyle.”

“I know, Alex,” Kyle muttered, skin slick with sweat as he tilted his chin, daring Michael even as he found that spot again. 

“He can come again.”

Michael whined at the low rasp of Alex turned on. He wanted, he wanted breathlessly and helplessly even as he spread his thighs and reached for his dick, tugging at his balls to keep from coming again. Kyle laughed, sharp and pleased. “I know.” 

He wanted to reach up, reach up and grab Valenti, to wipe that smug look off his face. He thought about it. He could ride him until he left bruises on Michael’s hips to hold him still as he came, shoving deep and biting at the muscle of Michael’s shoulder. He could suck him until he was pulling at Michael’s curls to pull him off. He could-

“Look at me,” Alex whispered it and Michael knew he would do that thing where he wet his lips and looked so soft, so soft and open like he was precious and Michael would lose it, would lose it so fast that he’d be in pain. He felt Kyle nudge at him, the way the bed shifted and the sudden aching loss of his fingers where they’d stretched burning and necessary. Michael squirmed, staring at the ceiling and holding the bedframe like a lifeline. “Guerin.”

“Better do as he says, Michael,” Kyle muttered, ducking his mouth to whisper it against his ear as he curled his arms under and found the grip. Michael should prepare, he knew the way it felt, knew what that grip meant and just went boneless with a breath, turning his head and startling as Kyle shoved deep and Alex watched.

“Fuck you, Valenti.”

“Fuck you feel good,” Kyle managed, hips snapping and Michael wet his lips, mouth watering as his eyes rolled, rocking in time with the thrusts, the weight and slip of Kyle’s body against his. 

“Sweet talkin’?”

“Shut up and move your hips. You- _fuck_,” Kyle growled. 

Michael looked over, chest tight and skin flushed as Kyle fucked him, steady and just two shades off from intimate. Alex just flicked his eyebrows up in question, letting his mouth drop open and his knees spread. Michael nodded tightly. “_Yes_.”

Alex lifted his hips and pushed a hand under the waist of his jeans, the easy movement of his strokes in time with Kyle’s hips. “Show me.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've written a couple more tumblr ficlets you can find over [here](http://irolltwenties.tumblr.com).


End file.
